


Kinds of water drown us, others do not

by salvadore



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Character Study, Communication, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Post-Canon, Sharing a Bed, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21844234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salvadore/pseuds/salvadore
Summary: A moment's reprieve for the Mad Burnish at what wasn't the end of the world.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 31
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Kinds of water drown us, others do not

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nightmoonz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightmoonz/gifts).



Lio dreams of ice, and the bite of it spreading throughout his body. It anchors him to solid rock and immobilizes him when the Burnish need him most until he can’t even move his lips. Until he’s practically stone. But his mind is screaming. He’s filled with fury. To be anything else would open the door to things stronger than the ice: grief and inconsolable sorrow. 

But this time there is no fire. Fingers brush his stomach, and they’re so cold they shock him awake. Lio gasps into waking, tossed into the present from the nightmare. He shivers at the chill of the bedroom. Cold toes prod at his shin, and those cold fingers slip beneath Lio’s shirt, seeking warmth and burning his skin. Lio inhales sharply through his nose. Meis. 

Lio rolls onto his back, and those fingers follow with too much intent for the unconscious. He doesn’t stop them even as a shiver runs through him again. Meis’ fingers spread, and his palms press against the small of Lio's back and the bottom of his ribs. Except for the temperature, it’s a welcome, familiar touch. 

Slowly his heart stops hammering. When he opens his eyes, Meis is looking back. 

He doesn’t know if Meis was suffering a nightmare too, or unlucky enough to wake because of Lio’s, but Meis looks like he can’t suffer to lose more sleep. For a moment, Lio is caught in Meis’ eyes and it sets him adrift from time. It could be months ago, when they had done nothing but go over their plan. Being captured was the easy part. Lio had been determined that it be only the three of them. He couldn’t lose anyone else, and they couldn’t fail. 

He smothers the thought that all the planning didn’t help. 

In the present, in a bedroom they’ve borrowed from Burning Rescue, Meis’ eyes look as bruised now as the morning they put the plan into action. When they had met each other’s gaze just like this, and Lio felt weighed by those blue eyes. 

Exhaustion has softened Meis. There are creases from the pillow pressed into his cheek. And his sweatshirt has ridden up his body from the twisting of restlessness. Before, Meis rarely slept with a shirt. He ran hottest in his sleep, his blue flames like a steady furnace heating the room from beneath his skin. Old habits die slow and, despite the cold, Meis probably kicked the blankets to the foot of the bed exposing the two of them to chill. Lio feels Meis’ toes prod at his shin, pressing underneath Lio’s leg in search of warmth. 

Meis tucks his chin in against the collar of the sweatshirt. It brushes his lower lip. Across the chest is the Burning Rescue insignia. It’s a surprise the way it settles something within Lio to take in Meis wearing his borrowed Burning Rescue sweatshirt. It reminds him that this is now, and Meis and Gueira are safe. 

It reminds Lio of Galo. 

Lio feels a tug deep within him for thinking his name. He’s suddenly all too aware of the air desperate and caught in his lungs, and has to remember how to breathe in, breathe out. It’s a feeling that’s troubled him for weeks. Sometimes it comes like a warmth expanding through his chest, and he expects to blink his eyes and see Galo leaning over him. Breathing life into him again. 

But he hasn’t had time to examine it. There’s too much to do to be here - too many lost and too many displaced for Lio to stay still. It’s why he’d asked Galo to take Meis and Gueira in until they recuperated. If he can’t be here to protect them then they’re safest together. Even though the days without them leave Lio feeling unmoored. 

“Boss.”

When Lio makes a soft sound to indicate he’s listening, Meis says, “You were having that dream again.” It isn’t a question. 

Lio doesn’t have it in him to tell Meis that it’s usually worse. Sometimes he dreams of the destruction of the home they built together for the Burnish. It’s easier not to sleep. 

“I’m alright now,” he says. He hopes that will be enough. He can still hear Gueira snoring beside them in bed. They don’t need to wake him too. 

Gueira is rolled up in his blanket. Unlike Meis, none of Gueira’s past sleeping habits are evident to Lio’s eyes. When he slept, it was the deep sleep of the dead-tired. Gueira could go without sleep better than Lio himself, but his body made up for it in the end, always. 

He would sleep body relaxed and arms open, flame gentle as it radiated from him. The warmth of it would lap like waves, evening out Meis’ heat or harmonizing with Lio’s. Now, he’s curled in on himself, out of reach. Only the top of his red hair visible from the cocoon of blankets. 

The promech engine took, it had chewed and consumed Promare energy with no concern for the people. Burning up the planet to free the Promare had done a lot to heal the world, but there was only so much. Gueira had come out of the engine like too many others . Burned out and scarred by the machine. Gueira has scars that look stretch-marks. And he has deeper ones that look like lighting struck him and left fractures in his skin.

He doesn’t realize panic is starting to settle under his skin until Meis startles him out of it again. 

Meis pinches Lio’s side where he’s ticklish below the ribs. It’s an old tactic to get attention. One they’ve decided is cheating. 

Lio drags his gaze from Gueira to meet Meis’ eyes again. 

“What?” Lio asks softly. He presses his hand over Meis’ beneath his shirt to stop him from doing it again. It’s easier to breathe when he can feel their hands rise and fall with the motion.

“Lio.” 

It’s rare that Meis uses his name instead of “boss.” More than Gueira, Meis latched onto the title with resolution. Lio should have known it meant Meis would go to the ends of the earth for him. Lio’s chest aches remembering how willing they were to sacrifice themselves for him. And how he hadn’t seen it coming. 

Now, Meis jaw is tight with familiar determination. It twists Lio up that he knows what Meis is going to say. The part of him that had almost lost them both - the part so torn up rage overtook him - doesn’t know that he can hear Meis say it was worth it. 

“He’s fine. We’re both alive.”

Lio closes his eyes against what he doesn’t want to hear. They haven’t spoken of it, there hasn’t been the time. 

“You saved everyone.” Meis says it with confidence. 

He runs paths with his fingers across Lio’s bare ribs. They raise goosebumps on Lio’s skin. He squeezes his fingers around Meis’ to stop them, and to comfort. He feels himself floating, the memory of how the anger consumed him in opposition to what Meis is saying.

“I don’t regret - “ 

Lio interrupts, “It’s not what I asked you to do.” 

“What good would my survival mean if they had caught you, boss?” In Meis’ eyes Lio can see the simmering anger that drove Meis before. The hard fury with which he dispensed revenge for the Burnish. 

“We wouldn’t have been able to save the planet,” Meis says, harshly. 

“You don’t know that. I could have been incapcitated by that bullet -” Lio doesn’t want to agree. He can’t. He doesn’t think he’ll ever escape the cold that filled him, alone and helpless, and thinking everyone was about to die. 

“But it didn’t,” Meis says with a smile that portents something worse escaping his lips. “Without you everyone would have died.” 

The certainty stops Lio. Even as Meis tries to reassure him, and remind him that’s not what happened. He can feel Meis’ palms start to sweat the longer he’s quiet. But there's nothing to say. It’s not enough if Meis doesn’t understand how much he needs them. How he was ready to destroy Promepolis to get everyone back. 

Lio closes his eyes. He wants to pull the blankets back up around them, and go back to sleep. He wants this to be another bad dream. And he wants to keep them safe. 

But the blankets are out of reach. He thinks, he would have to get up and gather the blankets. It’s an insignificant detail - not a grand gesture of how much things have changed. He wasn’t reckless, and their fire wasn’t a cure all for minor inconveniences. But if he got up, he would shake the bed and Gueira would wake up. With frustration, Lio thinks that they shouldn’t even need the blankets. The room isn’t inhospitable, it’s not freezing. 

But Lio has never been as cold as he now feels everyday. 

“Boss- “ 

“Stop,” Lio says. 

Meis’ mouth shuts on a protestation and it’s too much. Too compliant. This isn’t how they are. Lio pulls away from Meis’ touch. He guides his hands out from under his shirt and holds them for a moment. Concern grows on Meis’ face but Lio looks away. 

“I need a moment,” Lio says. “I’ll be back.” 

Lio leaves the bed as carefully as he can. He tosses the lost blankets to Meis before he leaves the room. 

Burning Rescue’s layout provides enough distance between the bedrooms and the bath that Lio doesn’t worry that the roar of the water will wake anyone else. Even if it didn’t, the need to feel warm is more important in this moment. 

As the bath fills, Lio sits on the edge of it and watches the heat rise off the bath water, and thinks idly of sliding off the edge and into the water fully clothed. How the fabric would grow heavy with the weight of the water. 

With a sharp movements, Lio strips. 

The bath is as hot as he can get, and his skin pinks on contact with the water. His toes and fingers ache with the change in temperature. Once he’s adjusted, Lio sinks into the bath, legs bending so he can lay with his back flat on the bottom of the bath. Submerged until the water rises over his ears and only his face can feel the air. His hair fans out in the water around his head and he can remember being back within the fire. He feels the heat sink into his veins, and it chases away what remains of the memory-turned-nightmare of freezing on the cliff face - too far from the flames to be saved.

He holds his breath and sinks the last bit under the water and stays there. The feeling of heat thawing him, and the water rocking gently against him. He daydreams of the Promare. The sense of finality, the soft goodbye as the last of the flames danced across his skin before leaving him entirely. 

The loneliness of the feeling cracks him open. If he were to cry, though, there would be no way to say. 

As if separate from himself, heat blossoms in his chest. Lio feels a tug from below his ribs, as if something is calling to him. It’s like the Promare, but not as loud or as hungry. It’s warm and steady. 

It’s too familiar. It reminds him of Galo reaching out his hand to him. It feels like a promise and it scares him. He bolts upright in the bath, gasping for air. With shaking fingers, Lio grasps the edges of the bath, and anchors himself to the present as he wipes the water from his eyes. 

He doesn’t expect the soft greeting from the doorway. 

“Hey, Boss,” Gueira says, with an affectionate smile. It sharp as it always is, but it feels like a laugh might shake free of him in the next moment. It’s easy, the way Gueira has always been with him. 

He regrets if his argument with Meis is what woke Gueira. He looks ill with lack of sleep, but seeing him standing there shakes something loose in Lio. When he became the leader of the Mad Burnish, there had been a natural ease between them. Making Gueira his second had meant more than recognizing his abilities or respecting his leadership. Where Meis had been excited, eager for change, with a palpable energy that they could feed off to keep them going and keep them building. Gueira had been steady support. 

When they built the Burnish haven, Gueira had made it feel like home. Lio feels all of that now. His shoulders loosen, and he drops his guard. Slowly Gueira closes the door behind him. He doesn’t ask if he can come in, and Lio doesn’t tell him to leave. 

There’s no ignoring how tired Gueira looks. His hair is a mess from sweat, and restless hands and evasive sleep. As he draws nearer, Lio can see sweat drying at the temples, darkening his red hair. Lio can imagine the dampness at the nape of his neck if he were to lay his hand there. But that would be more like Meis. How often has he caught them leaning over plans and brushed his fingers there in reassurance? Lio shivers in memory, the phantom feeling of Meis running his thumb across the skin there and his hand heavy, and reassuring on Lio’s shoulder. 

Lio looks at his knees, and runs his fingers over where his skin hasn’t been warmed by the bath in minutes. He can hear Gueira moving closer, and can see the shadow he throws over the bath as he stands beside Lio. 

Gueira sits beside the bath, and drapes his arm next to Lio’s, resting on the edge. Where there arms touch leaves Gueira's arm wet, and goose-bumps rising on Lio's skin from the chill of Gueira's skin. He drops his arm back into the water, but it's growing lukewarm. Slowly, Lio drapes himself over his knees, giving into the exhaustion he’s feeling. They could look each other in the eye but Gueira looks around the room, and Lio watches him. 

The clothes Gueira borrowed are Burning Rescue hand-me downs too. But his shirt is too big. The collar is stretched-out so Lio can see a hint of Gueira’s tattoo on his shoulder. The one that matches Meis’. 

Gueira says, “Don’t take Meis too seriously.“ 

Lio closes his eyes and presses his cheek to his knee. “He’s serious about his actions.” 

Gueira hums at that, and concedes, “You could say he’s reckless.”

“ _You_ are reckless,” Lio replies, sharp and quick. He tries to sound amused. A smile makes an effort to pull at his lips. He doesn’t want to think too hard about what happened. He’s tired of thinking about it, tired of remembering them hold the line until he was safe. Gueira was just as much a part of that decision.

When Gueira replies, his voice is full of humor. “Yeah, that’s how I know it’s true.”

The knuckles of his fingers brush Lio's shoulder, drawing down until Gueira drops his hand in the water. Lio peeks, and watches him through half-lidded eyes as Gueira draws figure-eights in the water. It makes small laps of water that lick at Lio's skin. 

“We would do it again,” Gueira says, serious. “It was inevitable. We planned it from the start.”

When he lifts his fingers from the water, it drips from his fingers creating ripples on the surface of the bath.

“The start - ?”

Their words are louder in here with the tile. Lio hates the way he sounds when his voice echoes Gueira’s. Startled, upset. 

“Not the prison break,” Gueira says. “From the day we met, and you became our leader. We decided if it came down to us or you, we would save you.” 

Gueira looks him in the eye. He’s serious in that rare way. He's much easier with a smile, but right now his face is calm. He stares steadily into Lio's eyes. In his head, Lio can hear Meis’ voice ringing in his ear, telling him that he had to live on for the Burnish. But now he can see it in Gueira’s red eyes. 

Lio doesn’t realize he’s crying until Gueira is reaching out to him and catching the tears with his fingers. He brushes thumb across Lio’s cheek just as breath catches in Lio’s chest.

“It’s okay. We know it’s the same for you. We know why you wanted us to run.”

Gueira leans forward to press a kiss to Lio's forehead. His lips are warm, and Lio can feel him form the words as Gueira confesses, “But there was nowhere for us without you.”

Then it’s unstoppable. Lio feels everything he’s been burying in a box for weeks, too busy and too needed to feel it. It bursts out, and the bathroom should be filled with fire flare, Lio thinks. Burning Rescue should be burning down all around them because he hurts and it wants so badly to escape. But he has no fire left to manifest. Nowhere constructive to put this. Instead he heaves with the first sob, bracing his elbows on his knees as it shakes through his whole body. Gueira stops him from covering his face and smothering the tears in his hands, catching his cheek and futilely wiping the tears as they fall. His other hand is there, curling gently on Lio’s arm until he turns. Dripping wet, Lio falls into Gueira’s embrace. He soaks through the borrowed shirt, and catches his fingers along the lines of Gueira’s new scars as he grasps at Gueira’s forearm.

There's the gentle touch of Gueira combing his wet hair from his face. Lio curls his fingers in Gueira's hair. Lio cries into Gueira’s shoulder. He hears Gueira crying too. So close, Gueira's body heats his, different but no less welcome than before. Gueira presses his lips to Lio's temple, and it shouldn't be another shattering confession to hear him whisper, "We love you. We love you," but it hurts.

Between gasping breaths, Lio exhales and what comes out isn't a scream. It's a hoarse, gasping escape of words.

"I love you too."

**Author's Note:**

> Dear nightmoonz! Thank you so much for your prompts and the opportunity to write Promare. And also for being open to angst. I was so compelled by this relationship and what it would mean in the aftermath to have the act of self-sacrifice settle heavy between them. I hope you liked it, because it was a fun exercise for me. Happy Yuletide, and a Happy New Year!
> 
> All my thanks to theultimateburrito for holding my hand through everything, and reading so many snippets and drafts. It was a tremendous help and this would not have gotten here without them. Also to Empires for last minute read through and reassurance. 
> 
> I haven't seen Side:Lio, and I didn't take diligent notes the last time I watched. Any tech naming mistakes are welcome notes in the comments (that I forgot and couldn't remember the name of the bullet but could picture Vulcan's face drove me up a wall). Any remaining grammar or spelling mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Title from [this carson-bot tweet](https://twitter.com/carsonbot/status/1203194954111234048?s=20) an Anne Carson poetry bot.


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